Page 9 of A French Adventure
‘What a shame I’ll have left by July,’ Vivienne said wistfully. ‘I should have timed my retreat better. Perhaps I’ll try to have a return trip.’
‘Pierre had quite a collection of books about jazz down here in the twentieth century, you’re welcome to borrow any that will help,’ Maxine said, jumping up. ‘Come and take a look. His study I have not changed.’
Minutes later, Vivienne found herself standing in front of a bookcase full of jazz related books, most in French but a few were in English. Some she had read, some she had heard of but had been unable to find copies of and others that were unknown to her. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind lending me a book or two while I’m down here?’
‘Not a problem,’ Maxine said, shrugging.
‘Can I borrow these two? I promise to take care of them.Jazz Cleopatra, the story of Josephine Baker andThe Mistinguett Legend. I plan on featuring both Baker and Mistinguett in my novel.’
‘I fetch you a bag,’ Maxine said.
As they went to return to the garden through the sitting room, Vivienne noticed Maxine’s collection of silver framed photographs on a small highly polished table and she moved across to take a closer look.
‘This is you and your husband?’ she asked, pointing to one and catching her breath. Maxine, looking lovely in a long silver evening dress that was clearly couture, was standing face to face and holding hands with a tall, debonair man in a black-tie evening outfit. Their body language indicated that the camera had caught the couple at the exact second they’d drawn apart after a kiss and were exchanging a look that positively sizzled with loving intimacy.
Maxine nodded. ‘My favourite photograph of the two of us. The fact that it is also the last one of us together makes it extra poignant for me.’
‘And this one,’ Vivienne said, indicating a black and white photograph of a young woman and a small girl. ‘Is that you too?’
But Maxine had already turned away to pick up a paperback. ‘I promised to lend Olivia this book when I finished it. The writer she is English.Peut-êtreyou have heard of her?’
Vivienne looked at the book Maxine held up to show her and smiled when she saw the author’s name. Jill Mansell ‘Yes, she’s well known and very popular in England.’
Olivia gave a happy sigh when Maxine handed the book to her. ‘Thank you. I love Jill’s books.’
The aperitif hour extended into the evening as the three women started to bond, sipping their wine and chatting. Olivia even relaxed enough to tell the other two her decision to finish with James.
She glanced at Maxine. ‘Please don’t mention it to my mother, otherwise she’ll be lining up even more men she considers eligible.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘There are times I think my mother allows her desperation to be a grandmother to grab at any likely male she meets – either that or she doesn’t know me at all.’
‘Well, I too know some delightful young men,’ Maxine said mischievously. ‘I could introduce you.’
Olivia held up her hand. ‘Don’t you dare, Maxie. I’m going to try to resurrect a social life and enjoy summer on my own terms.’
It was almost ten o’clock when Olivia and Vivienne left and Maxine wandered between the garden and the house, loading the dishwasher, tidying cushions. It had been a lovely evening. Olivia had seemed in good spirits and Vivienne had turned out to be way more friendly than she’d expected when they first met.
But now she was alone again, the depressing thoughts that were always circling in her brain were trying to descend and engulf her.
Maxine picked up the photograph she’d pretended not to hear Vivienne asking about. Even after all these years, itwas impossible to ignore the maelstrom of emotions that the photograph always stirred inside her. It was only by sheer force of will that she’d recovered from those years that the photograph represented the end of, while at the same time it marked the beginning of a truly dreadful time in her life. Thirty years had passed since the photograph had been taken, but the pain had never been forgotten and never would be.
She’d often thought about hiding the photo in a drawer, shutting it away out of sight, but could never bring herself to do that. It had happened and she would always remember. Whilst she could acknowledge that it was a part of her life that had gone, never to return, she knew the memory could never be shut down completely. Denying the past was not an option.
Replacing the photograph on the table, Maxine’s thoughts turned to Vivienne. There had been a couple of times during the evening when Vivienne had quickly changed the conversation when her husband had been mentioned. Did he have something to do with the upsetting news Vivienne had received before she arrived? Perhaps when they knew each other better, Vivienne would confide in her. But then again, maybe not. Perhaps Vivienne’s secret, like her own, was not for sharing.
7
The morning after aperitifs at Maxine’s, Vivienne got up at 6.30 and showered before walking to the boulangerie for a baguette and croissants. Returning to the apartment, she took her breakfast coffee and croissant up to the roof terrace, which was rapidly becoming her favourite place in the apartment.
Last night sitting out in Maxine’s beautiful garden drinking wine and talking about everything under the sun, Vivienne had realised how much she missed having close female friends. She’d never been one for girly nights out but had enjoyed the camaraderie of other mothers as the children grew, and a couple of closer friends like Lisa and Dawn. Otherwise, it was a quick coffee with the other mums while the children were at after-school club, swimming and any PTA event she’d been roped in to help with.
But life had changed over the years. The children had grown, primary schools had become senior schools, people had divorced, moved away and slowly the whole network of friendly female support had disappeared. Lisa had been the last to leave, for a new life in Australia. Now, working from home as a writer, Vivienne realised she rarely met up with anyone outside of thefamily or Jeremy’s colleagues at the newspaper. She met with both her agent and her publisher once or twice a year for lunch, but that was about it. Spending time with Maxine and Olivia last evening had been an unexpected but welcome surprise. She felt as though she had made two new friends – friends that she would keep in touch with when she returned home.
Down below her, Antibes was waking up for the day. The Mediterranean waves were gently lapping the beach in the early-morning sunlight, there were people walking their dogs, others going for a swim, runners jogging past, and cyclists whizzing down the road before the traffic began to increase as shop and office workers headed into town.
Vivienne gave a sigh. Sitting there under a clear blue sky with a warmth to the early-morning air, it was all too easy to forget and push her problems to the back of her mind. To believe that life, even if not perfect, was at least filled with good things. Her books were selling well, Natalie and Tim were happy with their chosen careers – Natalie with her catering business and Tim a recently qualified paramedic working with the fire service. Elizabeth was enjoying a busy social life as her seventy-fifth birthday approached and Jeremy…
Vivienne’s enjoyment of the terrace and its view vanished as thoughts of Jeremy and his affair flooded into her mind once again. His news was about to wreck everything they’d spent their married lives believing in. Even if they did manage to work through this crisis, nothing would ever be the same again. How could it be?
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to pull herself together, wishing her adoptive mum was still alive and she could talk to her. Ask her advice on how she could cope with the changes that were coming her way. Jacqueline Lewis had always guided her with wise words and kindness. Indeed,kindness summed up Jacqueline. She’d spent her life being kind, saying it was impossible to be too kind.
